Of Darkness and Discs
by SoftPurple Sherlockian
Summary: John has to go away for a couple of days to a medical conference (sort of) so before he goes he makes a very intimate video to keep Sherlock entertained while he's gone.


"I'll be back in three days." John waited by the front door for some sort of response from his flatmate. When it became apparent that he'd receive none, he gathered his suitcase and headed down the stairs into the taxi that had been waiting on him.

He gave the cabbie the address of a hotel just a few blocks away, sitting back in his seat, John smiled as the vehicle sped off.

*  
_'A medical conference,'_ Sherlock scoffed. The least John could have done was be a little more creative with his lie! The real mystery was why the doctor had felt the need to be dishonest in the first place? In the past, John had no problem telling Sherlock when he was staying at a girlfriend's or going away for the weekend, so why now? Granted, things had been a bit different since Sherlock returned. Not necessarily good or bad, just… different. John wasn't as quick to get angry, Sherlock paid more attention to what left his mouth, and the subtle lingering glances had become longer.

As soon as the door closed, Sherlock jumped up from his position on the sofa and bounded up the stairs to John's room, perhaps in here he would find the reasoning behind the doctor's deceit about his weekend plans. Rummaging through his room was to be expected, the detective had no sense of privacy when it came to personal belongings or space and had zero qualms about rifling through the doctor's belongings. Over the course of the last few years John's protests became less and less frequent, seemingly accepting the fact that Sherlock would dig through his stuff whenever he wasn't home, or on a few occasions, even when he was.

The detective crossed the threshold and stood there a moment taking in the smell that was unmistakably _John_.

The room wasn't very personal, just a bed, wardrobe, and a few odds and ends here and there. Everything of value was in a box beneath the bed, old photos, metals from his time in the service, letters that have yellowed with the passing of time, tokens of a life well lived.

Sherlock made his way to the wardrobe in three long strides before opening the top drawer. There was nothing out of the ordinary, pants and socks rolled neatly in their place. Opening the second drawer proved to be a bit more interesting, there, peeking out from the corner of the plain white shirts, was a small plastic case containing a DVD that Sherlock was positive wasn't there last week when he went through the drawer. The detective grabbed the disc and held it in his hands, flipping it and looking it over. There was nothing to indicate what might be on it, not a label, not a written note, nothing. Of course, the mystery of the DVD was enough to shake Sherlock from his momentary boredom, a small sort of accomplishment.

Once in the sitting room, disc in the player, Sherlock sat on the sofa and used the remote to press the 'play' button.

It took him a moment to realise what he was seeing, of course the detective recognised John's bedroom at once. Slowly, the doctor moved into the frame, peering into the lens to ensure it was indeed recording. As he crossed the floor to his bed, there was no mistaking the fact that he was unabashedly, gloriously naked. Sherlock's gaze was glued to the screen, more specifically, John's arse as he approached his bed. He'd noticed it before, how could he have not? His friend was still in remarkable shape, following Sherlock all over London had seen to that. Sherlock swallowed and noted how his throat was dry, but he couldn't be bothered to get up and get something from the kitchen, not when there was something so much more interesting on the television just in front of him.

John sat on the edge of the bed, facing the camera and looked directly into the lens. Sherlock could practically feel the doctor staring at him through the video and a small blush crept up his cheeks. There were lines that they didn't cross, even Sherlock was aware of the fact that this was one of them. Once he saw this DVD in its entirety, there would be no going back. He wouldn't be able to un-see or delete it from his memory, it would be forever seared into his brain, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

John continued staring at the camera for a few seconds longer, each one feeling like an eternity and Sherlock found that he was holding his breath, only releasing it when the doctor began moving again. From behind his pillow, he produced an elegant strip of black fabric. He ran his hands over it, stretching it to its full length and once again focused his attention on the opposite side of the room where the camera was set up. Sherlock watched as John took a deep breath and brought the blindfold up to cover his eyes as his hands made quick work of tying it behind his head, obviously he'd done this before.

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried getting closer to the television, trying to get a better view as John spread his legs, exposing his already hard cock to the camera. The detective was fixated on it, to say it was impressive would be doing it a great injustice. John's prick was beautiful, much like the man himself. It was thick and sturdy between his legs with the smallest upturn towards the tip, which was uncut. This fascinated Sherlock and he watched as John's hard wrapped around his girth and pulled the skin back, exposing the blunt pink head, already glistening with precome.

John began to lazily stroke himself, pulling the skin forward and back over the sensitive tip, twirling his palm across the head in an attempt to spread the fluid that was beading there and use it as a lubricant.

Sherlock could feel himself hardening in his trousers, a condition that was occurring more and more frequently once he returned to Baker Street. He allowed himself one guilt free squeeze through the fabric and returned his attention to the screen. He could attend to that later, right now he didn't want to miss a second of John.

The detective read every flicker of emotion in the man's face, every bit of pleasure as he through back his head and pumped his fist faster. John was truly lovely like this, cheeks flushed with arousal, lips parted as little gasps escaped his mouth, the blackness of the blindfold contrasting against his lightly tanned skin. Lovely.

John's hips starting thrusting upwards, meeting his fist with a vigor and passion that Sherlock was jealous of. Using his free hand, the man on the screen rolled his bollocks between his fingers, moaning when he gave them a gentle squeeze. Sherlock decided he quite enjoyed that sound, John all breathless and debauched, whimpering as he expertly pumped his cock.

When the tip of his finger pressed into his arse, John let out a feral growl that Sherlock matched as he watched the come spurt onto John's hand and stomach.  
"Sherlock!" John sighed, as stream after stream landed on his skin.

The screen went blank and the detective was left staring at a black television, trying to process what had just happened. Had John just masturbated and called out for him? Surely he had to have been mistaken.

He raised the remote and rewatched John's orgasm ripping through him.

"Sherlock!"

He'd not misheard.

Sherlock leaned back against the sofa, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

Abruptly, another image appeared on the television. John was once again sitting on his bed, although this time, he was fully clothed, jeans and a familiar jumper. He twirled that piece of black fabric around his fingers and gave the camera a wistful smile before he started speaking.

"I'm going to wager it's half past three."

Sherlock glanced up at the clock on the wall which read twenty eight minutes after the hour. 'He's getting better at this,' Sherlock thought, almost proud of the fact.

John grinned into the lens, "I imagine it took you all of three minutes to find this and make your way downstairs with it." His hands stopped moving and his voice took on a more serious tone. "So, here we are. The way I see it, I've got this room for three days. I figure you can both not show up, delete this and we forget about this whole thing."

'No!' Sherlock screamed in his head, he didn't want that at all.

"Or," John continued, "you know exactly where I am, have since I told you I was leaving for the weekend. Bastard." He playfully added. "Oh," he started again, "if you do fancy a visit, do me a little favour, yeah? I left my blindfold under the pillow. Don't show up here without it."

The video ended, for good this time and Sherlock was racing out of the flat without a second thought, the elegant strip of fabric trailing behind him as he clenched it in his hand.


End file.
